


Bite and Scratch

by valkyrienix



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Vampirestuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrienix/pseuds/valkyrienix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vampires??</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is just the prologue and this will be updated kind of irregularly depending on life  
> also kanaya maryam is just a girl who likes twilight a lot in this AU 8)

It starts out like every funeral does.

Rain.

It plummets downward relentlessly from the dark sky, soaking the guests as the casket is slowly lowered into the ground. The droplets hit the umbrellas with hollow, empty echoes. Everyone is focused on the death box. No one speaks. They are stoic. No emotion is betrayed as one of their beloved it buried. There is only the sound of the raindrops hitting the ground and splashing in the newly created puddles.

It starts with a whimper. Then escalates to a choked sob. And suddenly half the guests are crying. Even the ones who said upon arrival not a tear would be shed.

You stand there, watching it all. You’re crying too. The tears are silent though. They stream down your face and plip to the ground without a single _plop_. Normally, you’re the loudest person in the room. You have no qualms about sharing your emotions and making them known to everyone that’s around. Today... Well today is a different day. Today is the day that your best friend in the whole entire universe and probably beyond that is being buried.

You haven’t allowed yourself to cry until now. Not when they asked you to identify the body, not when Roxy and Jane had wailed to you and you held them tight, and not when it was during the open casket. Your brain hadn’t registered it. Dead? Haha, no way. That kind of stuff doesn’t happen around here, and especially not to your group of friends. Why, there hasn’t been a murder case in this town for half a century! No way this was for real.

Yet now, as you watch the coffin being covered with dirt, you realize, oh yeah, this is real and your best friend is fucking gone. Gone. _Gone_. There is no bringing him back. It’s not like he moved back to Texas and you could visit him. There’s no visiting the afterlife unless you die yourself, and you’re pretty sure he’d kick your sorry arse if you purposefully joined him.

Only now do you finally cry. The tears come slowly at first, but then faster and faster, slipping down your cheeks like mountain climbers losing their grip. Still, not a sound escapes you. You think you would probably go crazy if you allowed yourself to make noise. You’d go on a wild, grief-stricken manhunt for the son of a bitch who did this. Rip his sorry face from his skull, break every bone in his body, oh sweet lord there is no end to what you want to do.

Your older sister Jade seems to sense your distraught and quietly wraps her arms around your chest, murmuring words of comfort. She’s a full head shorter than you, but that doesn’t stop her from acting ten feet tall. Under different circumstances, you’d have pushed her away. You’re 16 and damn it all, you’re a man. You have no need for comfort. But you welcome it now, quietly sobbing into her shoulder while she rubs your back gently.

The funeral ends with silence again. The guests slowly trail away, their tears dried, and unsure what to say now. Your grandparents and sister leave for the car, but you stay behind for one last goodbye. You couldn’t call yourself his best friend if you didn’t. Tentatively, you approach his headstone, crouch, and then press your hand beside his name. It’s cold and slippery from the rain, rough against your palm.

“Well, Strider,” you breathe, barely letting the words out, “I guess this is it, huh?” You pause, as if for a response, but you know it won’t come. “The last adventure, right? Is it nice? I hope it is. I hope you’re happy and peaceful. Perhaps you’re surrounded in all the plush rumps you could want?” You chuckle to yourself. “Most likely are.”

“Jake!” Jade’s voice carries from the car, and you turn around.

“Just a moment, if you would!” you call back, and then turn back to the faceless headstone, sighing deeply. “I’ll come visit. I promise.” You stand, inhale, and pivot on your heel before walking away. Halfway to the car you exhale, look skyward, and say:

“ _Damn_ it all, Dirk. Why did you have to go and die?”


	2. Chapter 2

**2 weeks previously**

Your name is Roxy Lalonde and this was the greatest idea you’ve ever had. Okay, well maybe not the _greatest_. You’ve had quite a few great ideas. All of which ended with your mom grounding you for what seemed like an _eternity_. Dirk was always with you though, so it was totally worth it. Totally and _completely_. He thought your ideas were a little weird, and seriously crazy, but he liked to say it was hard to get crazier adventure ideas than Jake. You kinda had to agree to that.

The two of you have known each other since birth. You shared a crib together. Your mom and his oldest brother were bffsies in college, or something like that, so after Dirk’s parents died and his bro was left with a baby of barely eight months and a kid of two, your mom took them in like any best friend would, even with a newborn of her own.

Your dad left your mom when you were six months, so another, older, male presence in the house was welcomed by your mom. So you’d have to say that your feelings towards Dirk’s older brother range in the paternal area. He liked when the kids hung around him, even when he was doing those ridiculous raps or working with plushy rumped puppets. You and Dirk would sit on his lap and he’d rap out stories for you when you were really super little. Probably around four.

So when Bro got a job in Texas and packed up the Strider family when you were seven, it was no surprise that the entire Lalonde household was in tears. Even your older sister Rose cried. They bid you farewell and left your life for the next four years. You didn’t really keep in contact with them, try as you might. The communication skills of a seven year old aren’t legendary for a reason. Your mom did as best she could, but she was busy with work and her writing.

They moved back when you were eleven, and you don’t think you could have been happier. They were definitely different, but they were still the Striders. Just with slight Texan accents. When you saw Dirk for the first time in four years though, your heart did a little leap in your chest, and you realized that you may or may not have a ginormous crush on him.

You’re both sixteen now and holy shit do you have a crush on him. So you tend to spend every moment possible with him. When he’s not with Jake, that is. Which is all the fucking time. Okay, yeah, you know Dirk has the hots for old Jakey boy. And yeah, you know that Dirk is probably as straight as a twisty straw, but you really can’t help but keep crushing on him hard.

You slide a look over to him now, as you both trudge to the graveyard. He looks like he usually does. A stoic lil fucker. He’s one of your best friends ever, but you can’t ever really get past that stupid wall he puts up, even though you’ve only known him your whole life. But whatever. You’ll get there one day.

Okay, so maybe your idea isn’t really all that great. In fact, yeah you can say this is the shittiest one you’ve ever had. You were going to confess your feelings to him in a graveyard at midnight. Technically, this wasn’t even your idea. It was Rose’s.

Which meant she was sarcastic about the thing as a whole.

You inwardly groan and take out the wine bottle from your bag. You promised yourself you wouldn’t drink tonight (you still packed some wine for the slim chance of celebratory purposes), but now that you’re nearing the center of the graveyard all of the courage you’d geared up has gone to just about zilch. Your only thought now is fuck it, you’re going to enjoy being out with Dirk. The whole trip is kinda pointless now anyway, so you guess you’ll have to make some shit up, and alcohol’s always been your best friend when it comes to helping you get out of sticky situations.

You take a few large gulps of the wine, taking no time to savor the stuff. Dirk raises a brow but says nothing, and you wiggle the bottle in his face. “C’mon, Dirk, want some? No one to tell you no.”

He sighs and takes it from you, taking a gulp and passing it back. He doesn’t mind drinking every once and a while, but he doesn’t drink in excess like you do. He encourages you often to stop drinking altogether, actually, but you haven’t really listened very well. You’ve tried, but then something fantastically shitty will happen to you, and it’s like the vodka sings to you from the liquor cabinet. You can’t resist to call.

And then of course, you wake up hours later, hung over with about fifty million texts from Janey going on about Jake and a few from Dirk which always end with something like, “You’re drunk. Again,” to which you respond back something along the lines of, “lmao yeah.”

“So, why are we going to the graveyard in the middle of the night again?” Dirk’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you almost jump.

You need another drink.

Lifting the bottle to your lips, you shrug, winking at him. An exasperated sound escapes him, but that only feeds your shit-eating grin as that comfortable haziness starts to set in. You kind of wish you’d brought some vodka, too, but you weren’t planning on drinking. Oops.

“Why not?” you say, licking your lips. “It’s a perfectly gorgeous night. All clear skies and nice stars and shit.”

You’re pretty sure he rolls his eyes but you can’t really tell because of those pointy excuses for sunglasses. “Sure.”

On impulse, you nudge him, leaning your body against his and absorbing the warmth he emanates for just a fraction of a second. For the briefest of moments, you can smell the salt on his skin and maybe it’s just you but was that Jake’s cheap cologne? He twitches away from your touch, though, and you want to cry, but you let it go. Dirk’s never been a fan of being touched, and especially not by chicks. You think he only allows Jake to touch him because he’s got the major hots for him. And even then he looks like the most uncomfortable dork in the world.

Ugh, you need to stop thinking about this.

“C’mon, where’s your sense of adventure, Mr. Too Cool for School?” you say. You’re going to push past this stupid crush for fuck’s sake.

“You’ve been hanging around Jake too much,” he says, smirking. 

You feel your cheeks begin to redden, but you forcefully push past the embarrassment and tease right back. “I think that’s _you_ , Dirk! _Some_ body’s crushing.”

He doesn’t say anything, so you know you’ve got him. You guess that was kind of a bitchy thing to do, calling him out on the spot, but you don’t care right now because you’re still nursing your apathy towards him back to full I-could-give-less-of-a-fuck-if-you-don’t-like-me-back. So you move on to some other topic along the lines of Jane’s birthday, which is coming in about a month, and you want to throw her a happy sweet 16 bash. Dirk starts to talk a little more animatedly, seeing as he’s got kind of a sweet spot for Jane. He dotes on her and does dorky things like making her robo-bunnies and rewriting ridiculous books just for her.

You guess if you had to evaluate Dirk’s relationships with other people, Jake was his crush, Jane was his best friend, and you were just his sister.

You take another large gulp of wine.

Savoring was for wimps, anyways.

You two finally stop by an enormous looking tomb, sitting and then leaning against its rough service, looking skyward. The grass is cold and kinda wet under your butt, but you don’t really care and intertwine your fingers with fistfuls of the stuff, picking it out as you ramble about what you think Jane would like best. You can hear crickets chirping in the distance, and every once and a while you see the grass shift where one of them hops away. The smell of fresh dirt wafts up to your nose and you wrinkle it, pausing in your tirade and grass-pulling to look over at him.

He’s taken his glasses off for the moment, which he does rarely, and usually only ever around you or your family because you’ve known him since before he found the stupid things and discovered anime. His caramel eyes are half-lidded, and you kind of regret taking him out here so late, but you know he’d have stayed up this late at home anyway. Probably even later. 

“So,” he says after a moment, “is this basically a midnight escapade to plan Jane’s party, or am I being led under false pretenses?”

You almost choke on your saliva but you manage to keep an easy-going demeanor and laugh. “I just thought we could hang or somethin’. You’re always so busy with your raps or whatever, or hitting up Jake it’s like I don’t ever get to see my bro!” You almost snort to yourself because you said bro. That’s more of his thing and it’s funny coming out of your mouth.

All he does is give you this look like the jig’s up, and your hands start to shake as you grip the grass tighter. “What’s with the look?” He just presses that expression on your further and you feel your shoulders sag. “Like you don’t already know,” you mumble, and you place the tip of the bottle against your lips. It’s cold, and smooth, and it feels nice. “I’ve been dropping hints for months.” You lift the bottle up in the air and take another drink, this time letting the wine rest on your tongue. It’s a little too sour for your tastes, but it makes you numb so that’s pretty okay with you. Before you’re able to take a second gulp though, Dirk’s gloved hand is grabbing it and pulling it from you.

“Yeah,” he says, putting the bottle on the other side of him, “I know.”

“I mean I guess you don’t bat for that team though, huh? Not for Rolal’s team anyways. Nope. You’re all for Jakey’s, with his nice ass and muscular build. Totally way better than my boobs and hips, right? Yeah, totally. I guess I should have taken your hints, too, because you dropped plenty to me that you’ve got a hidden boner in your pocket for Jake, but you know a five year crush isn’t something that just _disappears_ , you know?” You start to just throw up words, trying to keep from hyperventilating or crying. You can feel the sobs in the back of your throat wanting to come out, but you choke them back while Dirk continues listening.

He finally stops you by resting a hand on your shoulder. His thumb runs small circles into you, and you relax into tears, allowing them to tumble out of your ducts. You could care less about your mascara running right now. It just felt nice to cry.

Dirk doesn’t say anything, but that’s because you know he’s a socially awkward duck and wouldn’t know what to say in this situation anyway, so he just rubs your shoulder more. And you’re okay with that. You think talking would probably make this whole situation five times worse.

Suddenly, his hands freezes, and his whole body seems to stiffen. Through your sniffling, you frown and say, “Dirk, you all right?”

“Shh.”

You frown, but shut up. It’s then that you notice that the entire graveyard is silent. The crickets have stopped chirping, and even the night breeze as stopped. You’d almost call the air stale. There’s a faint, musty scent that’s just barely there, and you’d have never noticed it if you hadn’t stopped your crying. It’s like dust and crushed up bone, and it makes you want to gag. Dirk must have noticed it, too, because his lips have dragged downward in disgust.

After what seems like an eternity of the painful silence, Dirk finally says, “We should leave.”

He grabs your hand and pulls you up, quickly letting go afterward, and together you make your way out of the graveyard. You’ve got this horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach and your neck is tingling like somebody’s watching you, so you repeatedly slap the back of it thinking maybe it’s bugs. But you know it’s not. And that gross smell seems to follow you as you continue to the entrance.

“Dirk,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, his frown deepening further. You look behind you, trying to see who could possibly be following you, but you catch sight of no one. Your heart rate speeds up a fraction and you swallow hard, trying to maintain normal breathing. You’re both going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay.

You turn back forward, and you almost trip over yourself.

_Where the fuck is Dirk?_

Your heart speeds up even more, and you can feel it rise up in your throat, threatening to choke you. “Dirk?” you say quietly, but you don’t hear anything. “Dirk, where are you?” There’s no response and you want to to scream but you just speed up your pace and continue forward. “Dirk, this isn’t funny!”

Silence.

You finally stop and you can taste the bile in your mouth as the fear rises in you. _“Dirk!”_ you shout, but there’s nothing and now you’re so worried you want to tear your skin off. You’re nearly to the entrance and if he doesn’t pop up within the next five seconds you’re going to search the entire graveyard, creepy-stalker-person-thing or not.

You turn back again and try to discern any figures through the darkness. You can barely make out anything, the only lights coming from distant houses, the entrance, and a few stray lampposts that conveniently litter the place. But there’s too few to really see anybody coming at you. The silence is still there, and the smell has only intensified, stuffing itself down your throat now as if trying to make you accept its presence. You finally give up and turn back.

And shriek.

You found Dirk alright. But not the way you expected to. All you can do is stare. He’s lying there before you, eyes staring straight ahead, blank, unseeing. He looks pale. He was pale before, but this is so pale you’d call it paper. Droplets of blood drip slowly from his mouth and you’re frozen in place.

You just stare.

Your brain tries to register what you’re seeing. Is it prank? You wouldn’t put it past Dirk to pull something on you in the dark, but you don’t think it would be this extreme. He also was someone who would have the decency to save a prank for when you weren’t crying your heart out in front of him. Which is something you next to never do, anyway. So this is obviously not a prank by him.

By someone else perhaps? Who? Jane wouldn’t dare do something this grotesque. She did those goofy little pies-in-the-face kind of pranks, not dead body ones. Jake wouldn’t dream of doing this. He’d be so “flabbergasted” he’d probably shit himself.

So then it registers inside you that what you’re seeing could quite possibly be real. It was the most logical thing. After all, you’re in a graveyard at nearly one in the morning, and Dirk was certain earlier that you were being followed. So who’s to say that he didn’t get snatched right in front of your face without you hearing even a single sound? Right?

You start to shake, and pull out your cell phone, dialing the first number that comes to mind.

“Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hello,” you say in a voice you barely recognize as your own, “I think my brother is dead.”


End file.
